My cat's name is Squeaky. He's 13, he's in great health and still a kitten at heart but as you can imagine his days are mostly slept away so when this happened last week it much to our amazement.

So one night I went out to the kitchen and flipped on the light and there, sitting on the stove, was a little mouse! He looked at me and I looked at him and when we both regained our senses I called out "Hey Willie, you gotta see this!". Willie came rushing out (thinking either the house was on fire or he was in trouble for something) but not before the little guy scrambled down through the stove burner.

So we decided we should get some warfarin or traps or something. I also decided I better clean my cupboards, I knew I had some bird seed spilled down there. Don't want to encourage it to set up house thinking there is 4-star restaurant just down the block, a whisker's length from the drain pipe. I vacuumed the cupboard out and I even mac-tacked.

Looks great.

Took hours.

Was all for nothing.

Glad we didn't get a chance to spend the money on the poison.

That night I get out of the shower and come into the living room. Willie goes, "Squeaks playing with his toy mouse! At first I thought it was a real mouse!".

"O, ya?", I say and thought nothing of it, every once in awhile Squeak gets the urge to bat around his toys. As I sit on the couch he bats it against my foot. I figure I'll kick it back to him and I put my foot on it. Keep in mind I just got out of the shower: no socks.

You know when some event occurs and there's that millisecond where a thousand things go through your head?.................."Hmmm, it's awful flat. Hmmm, it's awful soft. Hmmm..............DOH!"

I look down, "JEEZ Willie, he IS playing with a real mouse!"

A real dead mouse. As Willie and I look on in a new found awe of Squeak, he comes over, picks it up and carries on with his play. Don't worry he didn't get to play long, we disposed of the body. Willie pitched it out into the yard. Actually, he pitched it pretty good, it might be in the tree. Or at least in the neighbours pumpkin patch. That's ok, we don't like them, hope she weeds it soon.

Cats are real personalities, you can tell he's pretty proud of himself.

And we're changing his name to Killer.

Copyright © Jodie Marshall
July 30, 2003